Hide and Seek
by PhantomKat
Summary: [Haunted Mansion] Paula Andersen's brother is trapped in the mansion on a rainy night. She must find him, try not to get caught inside the Manor herself, and try to figure out what is up with the master of the house. Rated for safety and later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings, Mansionites! I bring to you this story on the wonderful Friday the Thirteenth, the best day of the year (besides Halloween, of course). Obviously, I do not own the mansion. If I did, I would probably die of happiness and reside there anyway. With out further ado, Hide and Seek...

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Rain poured like it would never stop. Occasionally, lightning pierced the sky and the sound of thunder rolled through the air. Terrence, Terry to his friends, ran through the storm seeking shelter. His sneakers slapped the wet pavement and he was soaked from top to bottom. Suddenly, he stopped, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and tried to get his bearings. He stood in front of the gates to the mysterious Gracey Manor. There was no lock on the gates and Terry figured that he could just wait out the storm and be back at home before morning.

"_Plus,_" he thought as he walked through the gates. "_I'll have a great story to tell everyone._"

Decaying plants and broken stones hindered his way to the front door. To one side of the house was a graveyard. Unlike the foliage surrounding it, the gravestones were well taken care of. The steps leading up to the front door were chipped and cracked in various places. A funereal wreath complete with a black ribbon hung on the door. He pushed open the door, which made the classic creak of B movie haunted houses, and stepped inside. As the door closed behind him, he realized where he actually was and remembered all the stories that went along with the place. It was the house that no one came out of alive. Once every year, someone, be it squatter, treasure hunter, thief, or kids, went in the house and never returned to tell the tale. Knowing this made Terry even more nervous. At least he had a cell phone in case anything went wrong. He slipped his hand into his pocket to make sure that he had not lost it while he was running. The feeling of cool plastic reassured him a little, but he still had a feeling, an aura if you will, of foreboding.

-X-

On the other side of town, in a modest two-story house, slept his family with not a care in their minds. Well, most of his family slept. His older sister, Paula, was in bed and three-quarters of the way asleep. She rolled over and prepared to slip into a deep sleep. The phone, however, had different plans. It jumped to life, shrieking loudly. Paula opened one eye and the phone kept ringing shrilly.

"Not happening," she groaned as she picked up the receiver from beside her bed and mumbled, "'ello?"

Only garbled white noise came through.

"Hello?"

"Paula…" A voice struggled against the static. "'s…erry. In…Gra…Manor…come…help."

After his last word, he screamed and the connection ended. A dial tone sounded in Paula's ear. Terry was in trouble and she was wide-awake now. To help him, she had to enter Gracey Manor to help him. Her hand fumbled for the light next to her bed and once the light had sufficiently blinded her, she sat on the bed and thought for a moment. Maybe she had not heard him correctly, or maybe this was another one of his pranks. She could have even been dreaming, even the light only made her half-lucid. The clock read twelve thirty. _Twelve thirty in the morning? What is he doing out at twelve thirty in the morning? This has to be a dream. _She pinched the sensitive skin on her wrist and winced. _Nope. Not dreaming. This had better not be a joke. _After she jumped out of bed, she threw on some clothes, grabbed her car keys, and ran out the door into the storm.

Rain drummed on the roof of her car as she drove through the empty streets, but thunder and lightning were nonexistent. The only car she passed was a lone police car making its nightly rounds. The town was so small that Paula knew who was in the squad car without looking. She turned on to the old road that ran adjacent to the manor. She could see it through the trees. Its Dutch-Gothic structure looked imposing and ominous on the background of a stormy sky. Another turn of the wheel got her on to Revere's Route, the road that lead to the mansion.

A forest of dead trees lined the road. In the darkness, the trees looked like hands reaching out to grab her. She shivered and drove on while wondering what could have possessed Terry to come this way. No one took this road if they could help it. Instead, they drove through town. The route was longer, but at least it did not take them past the Haunted Mansion, as it had been dubbed. Even though the rain impaired her vision, she was sure that there were three glowing figures on the side of the road. They disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, so Paula paid them no mind as she pulled up to the gates. They were open. It seemed strange to her, but then she remembered that Terry had come in before her, so they should be open. Lightning split the sky behind the mansion. The two rust-coloured wings appeared to be arms or claws, closing in on unsuspecting victims. Hastily, she got out of her car and ran up to the front door, which was flanked by a pair of coffins, not noticing three glowing strangers in her backseat.

The first was a short, plump man who held a flowered carpetbag and wore a top hat. Around his shoulders was a short cape. He looked around the interior of the small car with great interest. The middle one was the tallest and skeletal. He wore a derby, a bowtie, and a sour expression on his face. He crossed his long arms against his chest. The third and smallest was a dwarf that wore tattered clothing and had a beard down to his knees. Attached to his ankle was a ball and chain. He held the ball in his left hand while he rooted around in the seat cushions with his right.

"The first car in five years, and we don't even go anywhere," griped the tall one. "Who knows when the next one will come along!"

The dwarf interrupted his tirade with a happy shriek. He waved his prize in the air.

"Curly fries!"

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Didja like it? Review. Think it could be better? Review. Hate it with a passion that should be directed to something more worthwhile? Review. As I said before, I don't own the Mansion, however I do own the characters of Paula Andersen (named for the great Paul Frees and Ken Andersen) and Terry Andersen (named for Terrence Stamp and, again, Ken Andersen). Review and maybe I'll update faster. Pleasant screams... 


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there! Hi there! Ho there! Thanks for taking the time to read the second chapter. Thanks to my two reviewers, y'all rock! I don't own anything affiliated with the Haunted Mansion or the Pagemaster, however, I do own the character Paula Andersen. Enjoy!

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Oblivious to the three hitchhikers in her car, Paula pushed open the door to find a small foyer. Dust and cobwebs filled the whole room. A fireplace stood opposite a small wood table with an old encyclopedia on it. A formal portrait of a distinguished young man wearing a tuxedo hung above the fireplace. There were small pools of water on the floor, proof that Terry or some mortal had been there lately. The only light came from a dusty chandelier, whose candles flickered underneath their globes even though there was no wind in the room. 

Suddenly, the door she had left half-open slammed shut, startling her. The candlelight dimmed and a dramatic, eerie voice filled the room.

"Welcome, foolish mortal to the Haunted Mansion."

The voice sent chills down her spine and her voice shook as she spoke.

"Terry? Is that you? If it is, you're not funny."

"I am your host," boomed the voice. "Your Ghost Host."

Paula turned, looking for the source of the voice and found the young man from the portrait standing behind her.

"Good evening, miss."

She jumped back and uttered a little scream. The man smirked and stuck out his hand. Paula took it gingerly. She wondered if this man was part of a cruel joke that came from her brother's strange mind. However, the house was supposed to be empty for years and this man looked exactly like the portrait above the fireplace if not a little older. He was about a head taller than Paula, so he had to look down at her, which added to his upper class style. Dark brown hair was a great contrast to his bright blue eyes that shone with conviviality. There was no malice in his voice when he spoke; just a twinge of amusement and an overwhelming air of aristocracy.

"If you will excuse the abruptness, I like to know who enters my mansion."

"I'm Paula Andersen."

"Miss Andersen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"And who, sir, are you?"

"I am Master Gracey, ghostly owner of this haunted mansion."

He bowed over her hand.

"Ghostly?!"

Paula jerked back her hand as if she had burned it. Gracey merely chuckled and clapped his hands together.

"So, what are you here for?"

"I…"

"Wait, I have a talent for guessing what people want." He studied her for a moment and Paula found that his gaze made her nervous. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was dead, but that did not seem to be the complete reason. She fell that there was something unsettling behind his gaze. His voice snapped her out of her musings. "You look like a party girl. You've come to join our swinging wake. Dancing, food, maybe a duel or two."

"Well, no, actually…"

"Of course not! You're more of a bookworm, aren't you? You have a yen for a good read and come for our fine collection of ghost stories from around the world. Our library is well stocked with priceless first editions. Poe, Stoker, Shelley, King." Underneath his dark eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkled.

"Not exactly, I just need…"

"To have a ghost follow you home. We have three candidates that would be more than happy to hitchhike along, if they haven't already that is. Phineas, Ezra, Gus. They've been dying for a ride."

"Mr. Gracey, I just need to find my little brother."

His face fell a little.

"Oh, well," his face perked back up a little. "You're very welcome to search the house. Just don't go into any boarded up rooms. I'll be in the study if you need anything. I'm sure he's around someplace, probably hiding in one of the rooms."

"Great, so it's a game of hide-and-seek. My favourite," she muttered to herself. Aloud she said, "Mr. Gracey, where is…"

Before she could finish, Gracey vanished to parts unknown in a wisp of blue smoke. His footsteps echoed around her before fading out completely. The antique chandelier lit up to its regular setting as did the sconces on various places on the wall. Even the enhanced light did not help her to find a way out.

"…the way out?"

She sighed and looked around. A door creaked open and Gracey's voice filled the room again, this time in a whisper.

"There's always my way."

"Thanks."

She stepped through the door and started down the seemingly empty hallway.

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Gracey! (glomps the grim grinning ghost) Yeah, I'm done now. Please review! 


	3. Chapter 3

Well, here we are again. This chapter is signifigantly longer than the last two, so you're welcome. Disclaimer: I don't own Haunted Mansion. If I did, the movie would have been much, much better. Thanks to all my reviewers, (all two of you). You guys rock my socks!**  
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The hallway was endless, or at least seemed to be, with nary a twist or turn. Doors lined the corridor and creepy eyed wallpaper seemed to follow Paula's every move. Some of the pictures that hung on the wall seemed to follow the same action as the wallpaper. Paula could not prove the action for whenever she looked to the paintings to prove the act, the eyes appeared to snap forward again. She was relieved when she passed those paintings and moved on to others. The new pictures were as strange as the last ones. As Paula passed them, they changed from normal paintings to the macabre. She fought a shiver, as the only sound in the hallway was the dull thud of her sneakers on the carpet.

Suddenly, a door handle began to rattle and a moan escaped form behind one of the closed doors. She jumped backwards into yet another door, startled by the sudden noise. A resounding thump echoed after the moan.

"Hey!"

Paula looked to the door she just bumped into. The annoyed voice traveled through the wood and into the corridor.

"Watch where you're going! This is hand carved mahogany."

"S-sorry," she squeaked. She walked on and behind her the voice continued, unaware that Paula had gone.

"Kids. They're all the same. Bumping into everything and disturbing people without so much as a 'how do you do'."

Now that the silence had been disturbed, noises sprang from all corners of the passageway. They ranged from ghostly moans and shrieks to casual greetings and remarks. She overheard a conversation over the state of the rooms.

"Honestly, do you think it would kill them to clean them every decade?"

"By the state of things, I'd think that it has."

After this statement, the two parties in question burst into laughter and a floating candelabrum stopped at the doors. A disembodied voice, one of many, sounded and the candlelight flickered with each word.

"Don't you have anything better to do than complain about my work?"

"Sorry, Miss Prudence. We know how much pride you take in your work." The voice was full of sarcasm.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry that I've got hundreds of rooms to clean and a miniature fiend to look after." Prudence's voice dripped with an equal amount of cynicism. They kept arguing until their voices faded into the din of the corridor. A few of the ghosts decided to take up singing since they could not join the 'swinging wake'. Paula assumed that they were trapped in their rooms as the rest of the ghouls seemed to be trapped in the manor and its grounds. The sound of a sepulchral piano began to overwhelm her ears as she passed an open doorway that seemed to lead into a music room. The only occupant of the room was invisible except for a shadow that spilled across the floor when shafts of moonlight broke through the clouds. Sheet music was strewn all over the floor. From the looks of it, most of it was unfinished. Notes spilled from the instrument as the pianist muttered to himself with a slight German accent.

"Gotta finish, keep working, keep working. Gotta finish."

"Excuse me. I'm looking for my brother. He's a shorter than me and has brown hair…"

The music stopped for a moment and the shadow seemed to look at her.

"Haven't stopped, haven't seen, gotta keep working, gotta finish."

The music resumed and Paula's face fell a little. She stepped back into the hallway and addressed him once again.

"Well, thank you. By the way, your work sounds lovely." She walked away from the musical spectre and did not notice him slowing to a stop. He looked back at the now empty doorway and wished that she had stayed back so that he could thank her for the first compliment he had received in over sixty years. Shrugging back into his normal character, he went back to his eternal composing.

Paula kept wandering the corridor, wondering where it would end. On her left, the closed wooden doors ended and two French doors stood open. The doors led into a steamy conservatory. In the centre of the room, surrounded by dying, exotic plants sat a coffin. A funereal wreath lay on an easel to the left of the coffin and a raven perched above the wreath. Two gnarled skeletal hands emerged from underneath the lid. A frantic voice sounded from inside the coffin.

"Is anyone out there?"

"Yes," Paula timidly answered the voice.

"Thank the Lord," the voice muttered. Louder he asked, "Is it night yet?"

"Er…yes."

"Good." He proceeded to try to push off the lid with his hands. Paula watched for a minute and then spoke up again.

"Um, I'm sorry to bother you sir, but have you seen a boy about thirteen years old with brown hair?"

The hands stopped pushing for a moment like their owner was thinking, then as the corpse answered, the hands resumed their task. His words were interspersed with the sound of the lid creaking.

"I haven't seen anything other than the interior of this coffin for years. I'm a vampire you know." He said the last sentence casually like there was nothing obscure about his condition. Paula was completely taken aback.

"A_what?_"

"A vampire. It's a very interesting story. It all started, oh, about a century ago when…"

"I'm sure your tale is very intriguing, but I've got to find my brother."

"What? Oh, well. The best of luck to you miss."

"Thank you." She went on her way and the vampire went on trying to escape his resting place.

-X-

After the conservatory, the doors practically stopped. The wallpapers stretched on and a few pictures of ghouls hung on the wall. Once again, the sound of music filled the corridor and the passageway stopped abruptly with two thick wooden doors. Even though the rest of the house was in disrepair, the two doorknobs were shining gold surrounded by two staring dragons. From each of their eyes gleamed a green jewel. Whether it was real emerald or some other stone, Paula had no idea, but what she did know was that she had to go through the doors. Nothing, she figured, could be stranger than what she had already seen. Taking this to heart, she steeled herself and opened the door.

"Well, I was wrong."

The room she had stepped into was ostensibly the grand ballroom. Transparent spooks of every kind danced, drank, or ate. How they could do the latter two, Paula did not know, for some of them, judging by their dress, had apparently been dead for centuries. The table was full of wispy cobwebs and dusty china. An old cake with ghostly burning candles sat in front of an orange haired woman who was attempting to blow out the candles. The ghost on either side of her winked out with every blow. Above the table, level with Paula's eyes, a pair that seemed to be like Antony and Cleopatra sat on the chandelier. Next to them, a small spirit, who looked like he had jumped from the pages of a Dickens novel, swung happily from his umbrella waving a glass of wine. Paula gaped as the merry spirit tipped his top hat to her.

She began to make her way down from the balcony over looking the room by way of a small, circular, metal staircase on the far end of the walkway near the organ. She ducked as translucent skulls floated out of the pipes. Once on the ballroom floor, she walked around a group of whirling dancers, who did not notice her as they spun to the organ's music. Some other ghosts bid her a friendly greeting as they floated in through a door; however, none of them stopped long enough for Paula to ask about her brother.

Paula figured that this party was the swinging wake that Master Gracey had alluded to. She saw the dancing, the food, and the company, but where was the…

"I challenge you to a duel, sir!"

Everyone looked up to a landing opposite from the one that Paula had just descended. Two men wearing top hats and fine clothing stood glaring at each other. The redhead from the table spoke up.

"Claude, Edward, stop this foolishness. This is your third duel today."

"Excuse me, ma'am," the duelist with dark hair and a dark goatee returned with a light drawl that revealed his Southern birth. "But if this blackguard wishes to insult me and my family, then certain steps must be taken to protect our honour."

"I insulted you?! I believe that you have said words against my mother, not the other way around!"

"Edward, shut your lying Yankee mouth!"

They both whipped out their pistols, which they held in front of their faces. At this point, most of the party's patrons went back to their normal activities. Only Paula's eyes remained on the pair. They were now deciding what number to pace to. The redhead abandoned her cake for a moment to address Paula's astonishment. The other guests at the table amused themselves with conversation, which revolved around a betting pool on how Pickwick would get down from the chandelier.

"Don't worry, dear. They do this all the time."

Paula ripped her eyes from the now pacing duelists. "What do you mean?"

"Well, just yesterday they fought over the pronunciation of the word Kraken."

"That seems familiar…"

Her words were broken off by the sound of two gunshots echoing in the hall. The two men had finished their duel and were both looking very smug.

"Ha! I got you. See there's a bullet hole right behind you in the wall."

"You wish, Edward. That hole is clearly from yesterday's fight. It was I who won the duel, just like yesterday."

"Your mind is all wrapped up in cotton, Claude! I won fair and square."

The bickering continued and another challenge ensued. The redhead rolled her eyes and sighed.

"They'll be at this all night. What about you, miss? Can I get you anything? I'm Victoria by the way."

The woman talked so quickly and bustled around just as frequently that she reminded Paula of a humming bird. Before she could respond, Victoria held out a glass of water and a napkin holding a few cookies on it. Paula took them gingerly.

"Thank you."

"Well, we always have to have something for our mortal guests." She giggled lightly and turned her attention back to the cake. "LL, you keep your fingers out of there!" A small black haired girl in a lovely white dress withdrew her pointer finger from the icing, licked it, and began to skip off when she noticed Paula.

"Hi! I'm LL." The girl curtsied and clutched her doll to her chest. "Your necklace is pretty."

Paula touched the small gold cross pendant that hung from a chain of the same colour. A small ruby, her birthstone, was set in the centre of the cross. "Thank you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my brother. He's a shorter than I am and he's got brown hair, have you seen him?"

LL thought for a moment.

"He must have been the one that came in out of the rain. He was cute." She giggled again.

Paula ignored the cute comment. It was hard to think of her little prankster of a brother being cute.

"Do you know where he is now?"

LL shook her head.

"Victoria?"

"I'm sorry, dear. Perhaps if you search some more you will find him. There can't be much more for you to search."

"I suppose not. Well, thank you."

She began to walk back to the balcony from whence she came when a voice interrupted her travel.

"Oi! Watch where you're walking!"

Paula looked down and saw that she was standing in a pair of transparent legs. She jumped out of them and a transparent form crawled from beneath the table. The form stood up while Paula was apologising and she saw that he was a man; a very good-looking man. He was tall, perhaps an inch or so shorter than Master Gracey, and a little gangly with dark reddish-brown hair parted to the right. He wore grey pants and a black sweater. Underneath the sweater was a white shirt whose collar was tucked underneath the sweater. White cuffs showed from underneath the sweater and covered his wrists. There were no rings of any kind on his hands, which led Paula to believe that he never married before his death. He seemed too young to marry anyway, maybe in his mid-twenties. When he spoke, a light Irish accent accentuated his words. After standing up fully and realising who he was reprimanding, he stopped, self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, and offered her a shy smile. His dark green eyes softened from angry to a friendly and slightly awkward expression. She returned his smile and continued her apology.

"I'm really sorry. No offense, but I didn't see you there."

"Oh, um, it's alright. I thought it was those three hooligans messing with people again, so I'm the one who should be apologising."

For a moment, the only sound between them was music and conversations of the other patrons. Dancers whirled past and Victoria kept trying to blow out the candles. The man was the one to break their silence. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

"I'm Sydney Blaine."

Paula took his hand.

"Paula Andersen."

"So you're the girl that people have been talking about."

"People are talking about me?"

"Word travels fast around here. We can walk through walls you know."

"What are they saying about me?"

"Just that you're looking for your brother."

"I am. Have you seen him? He's about thirteen with brown hair."

Sydney thought to himself for a moment and then spoke up.

"Was he the one that Gracey was…?"

"Sydney."

Master Gracey's voice sounded behind the pair. They both turned to see the master of the manor looking at them with an amused smile. Sydney jumped a bit in surprise, but retained most of his composure.

"Talking about me again? Nothing bad, I hope."

"Of course, not sir."

Paula got the vague notion that the two men were friends, but their discussion seemed strained.

"I noticed that Miss Vaughan…"

"George," Victoria broke in. "Even though we are dead, we're still at a masquerade party."

"Fine. I noticed that Miss…Voyant is over there, and if I'm not very much mistaken, she is waiting for you to ask her to dance."

A mischievous twinkle appeared in Gracey's eyes. Sydney looked over and, sure enough, a lovely girl was eyeing him shyly. A blush crept from beneath Sydney's collar. He excused himself and nervously walked over to the girl. After a short conversation, they joined the dancers on the floor. Sydney still looked nervous and he looked over to Paula for some sort of reassurance. She nodded to him and his expression eased. Now he actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Master Gracey still stood next to Paula.

"Have you found your brother yet?"

Paula shook her head.

"I'm beginning to think that Terry didn't come in here."

"Well, you haven't seen the rest of the house. Come, I show you some other hiding places I know of."

They climbed the staircase on which the duelists were still arguing. Gracey addressed them casually, like their argument was not happening.

"Mr. Huet, Mr. Audley."

"Master Gracey." They broke off their dispute long enough to answer and tip their hats to him in unison and then go back to arguing over whether it was the Civil War or the War Between the States. Before the master and his guest could go any further, LL skipped in front of their path. She clutched her doll to her chest again and addressed Gracey.

"Uncle George, when you have a moment, mother would like to see you."

"Alright, LL. Tell her I'll be there later tonight." He glanced uneasily at Paula.

"Okay," LL giggled as she skipped away.

The pair walked away not noticing that the eyes on LL's doll had lit up to a bright green before she skipped away.

In another part of the mansion, quite cut off from the parties and ghouls, a woman's eyes narrowed in thought. A raven cawed breaking her concentration and the image before her faded. All around the woman were exquisite tapestries and fabrics creating a gypsy wagon feeling in the circular room. Ornate, weathered, gold lamps hung from the ceiling and made some of the metallic threads sparkle in the otherwise dim room. The chair that the raven perched on stood behind a circular table covered by more fabric and tarot cards on which the woman sat. She smiled to herself as she reflected on the young woman who was searching the manor. _Little does she know_, the woman thought. _That she's in over her head. Not only will she find her brother, but a secret that could doom us or save us all._

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Hope you liked it. If anyone noticed, I introduced Sydney Blaine, one of my favourite ghosts in the manor, the seemingly drunk ghost. (Hugs Sydney) His name comes from Sydney Carton, the drunk guy in A Tale of Two Cities, and Richard Blaine, who, when asked for his nationality in the movie _Casablanca_ said he was a drunkard. Also, for Blaine Gibson. Some may have also noticed I used LL's doll in the same way as I did in _The Music Box Dancer_ (yeah, I know blatant insertion of another fic.) I'm done rambling. Push that lovely square button to review, because it might make the next chapter come faster and it feeds my ego. Thanks for reading! _  
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	4. Chapter 4

Hi, everybody! Sorry, this chapter is a day late, but I ran into some problems yesterday. Before we start, I'd like to say that I don't own HM and I do not own the characters Bea, Dustin, or Asher. They belong to the very awesome Aquarian Wolf and I thank her again for letting me use them. Did anyone catch the Pirates reference last chapter? Just curious. Anyways, enjoy!

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Gracey and Paula walked out of the ballroom after the small encounter with LL, but the music and noises of the party still echoed behind them. Something else echoed in Paula's mind; LL telling Gracey to see her mother. Who was her mother? And why did Gracey look uneasy at the sound of her name?

"Master Gracey?"

His head jerked toward her as if she had startled him from deep thoughts. He blinked his eyes at her a few times before answering.

"Yes?"

"I-I wondered, who is LL's mother."

Gracey seemed surprised by the question, perhaps that was not the question he was expecting or perhaps there was something more to the Master and his manor than met the eye. He took his time thinking up an answer. Paula watched curiously, waiting for the answer, as he nervously licked his lips, rubbed the back of his neck, generally tried to avoid her gaze. When he saw that she was not backing down, he relented.

"I suppose I should tell you before someone else does and mangles the facts." He cleared his throat. "My mother felt trapped by her duties at our home and she felt my father wasn't at home enough like he should be. In my final year at Yale, my mother finally snapped. When my father came home from a business trip, she," his voice grew shaky. "Well, she hacked off his head. I suppose Father got the last laugh, for you see, she fell off my father's gravestone while rejoicing his death.

"After that…incident, I moved back home to oversee the manor and, in the process, became fixated on contacting my father's spirit. I suppose that I wanted to know the man who wasn't around. In the midst of one of these searches, I found my first wife, Lily, and a medium that I asked to take up residence here. Her name was Madame Leota. She promised to find my father, and when Lily died, to find her as well. It wasn't until a few hours before my death that I learned the truth about her. She wanted to use the house as a portal for more malicious and hostile spirits. Naturally, I refused, but she was to have her way. She is now trapped in her crystal ball, never to be released; however, she still holds some of her powers. She has the gift of foresight, which she sometimes shares with me, but other than that, she stays in her séance circle."

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

He smiled fondly at her. "No harm done." He straightened his suit jacket, cleared his throat and his face of expression, and gestured ahead. "Shall we continue?"

They walked on in silence for a while, until they came to a fork in the passage. One way extended further into the manor and the other led up a dusty staircase. Gracey began to edge to the hallway leading deeper into the manor, but stopped when he saw Paula glancing curiously at the closed door at the head of the staircase.

"What's up there?"

"Just the attic. No one's been up there in ages and the door is locked, so your brother probably isn't there."

"Right," she replied absently still looking at the door. "Is there anyplace that we haven't checked?"

Gracey thought for a moment. "You could check the backyard for him. Most of our residents are out there now. Perhaps one of them has seen him."

"Lead the way."

"Actually, Miss Andersen, I have a little matter I need to clear up in my study, I'll show you to the door, and after your search, would you be so kind as to relate your findings to me there?"

"Sure, Master Gracey, no problem."

He nodded his approval and led her down another, slightly darker corridor. Here the eyes on the wallpaper definitely seemed to follow her and the feeling that something was watching her was overwhelming. They passed a door that had been heavily boarded over. In the dim light, Paula could barely make out the inscription on the brass plate that hung at eye level. _Leota's Boudoir_. This, she supposed, was the infamous Leota's séance circle. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she quickened her pace to keep up with Gracey. Finally, after about ten minutes of going down stairs and through corridors, they arrived at a sort of clearing. Several doors stood waiting to be opened.

"What is this, the Winchester Mystery House? It doesn't look this big on the outside."

"Looks can be deceiving, Miss Andersen." He indicated a door to her left. "This door will get you to the outside. The one behind me leads to my study. I'll be there if you need anything or if you find your brother. The best of luck to you."

He disappeared through the door leaving Paula alone with the doors. Sighing, she turned the handle on the outer door and stepped out into the night. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her outside. She stood at the entrance to a graveyard that was full of glowing spirits from every era. Her mouth dropped open in sheer shock at the spectacle. Three ghosts on bicycles tipped their bowlers to her as they passed by. She stepped over the wrought iron gate and into the center of the activity. A king and queen waved a merry hello from their positions on a seesaw. A man dressed in what looked like Shakespearean attire recited dramatically to a skull he held in his hand.

"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well."

"Your Hamlet is all well and good, Will, but can I have my head back?" Paula was surprised to see that it was the skull talking.

Will shrugged and placed the skull on a headless skeleton propped up on a tombstone. "No one appreciates good theatre anymore."

Paula moved on looking for her brother. Little did she know that she was closer than she could have imagined.

-X-

Terry sat on a weathered tombstone contemplating his surroundings. Everything glowed and everyone was see-through. He looked at his hand, which shared the same characteristics. Experimentally he ran his hand through the tombstone. It went right through. He did not question how it was that he still sat on the stone. It was probably too complex and would lead to brain pains.

Being a ghost was not too different from being alive, apart from the whole being dead thing. He could not breath, eat, or drink, but he had not changed, not in the mental or emotional sense. Personally, he liked hanging around here. The ghosts he had met were nice, like Dustin, Asher, and Bea. Granted, Asher was strange, Terry could not figure out how he was drunk when they did not have the capability to drink, and Bea was a little hyperactive, but the sibling's relationships reminded him of his own relationship with his sister. They could fight like cats and dogs, or like Bea and Asher, but deep down they could mirror Dustin and Bea's friendship.

Terry sighed. Paula was probably searching for him right now. He was not sure how exactly she, or his parents for that matter, were going to take the news of his passing. At least he could get his kicks while he was still able. With almost a thousand ghosts at the manor, he would not run out of people to prank. And speaking of prank, three ghosts where walking, or rather, floating through the crowd towards him. They called themselves the Hitchhikers and, from what information he had heard, they were the cons of the manor. The tallest of the three came forward with a broad grin on his face.

"Hi there, kid. Why so blue?" The skeletal ghost laughed at his own bad joke while Terry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's bad. On a more serious note..." The ghost grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down vigorously. "Ezra Dobbins. This here's Phineas." He motioned to the shorter plump ghost. "And this is Gus." The shortest ghost waved hello and then hugged Terry around his knees. The action nearly knocked Terry over. Finally, Gus let go and started munching on a handful of curly fries. Terry closed his eyes and shook his head not caring how the ghost could eat.

The tall ghost had let go of his hand and slung his arm around the young man in a companionable way. "So, kid, what's your name?"

"Terry."

"Ya new here, Terry?"

"Yes," he replied cautiously. Ezra's grin broadened and he winked at his partners in crime.

"So kid, wanna go on a snipe hunt?"

"Man, I'm not stupid. I know what a snipe hunt is."

Ezra looked disappointed. "Oh."

"But do you know anyone who would fall for it?"

Ezra thought for a moment. "Phinny, Dustin's around here, right?"

"Yep."

"Do you think he'd fall for it?" Terry thought of the quiet, bespectacled driver. He seemed gullible, but he had tried something like this on one of his friends a few months back and got trapped in a headlock for his troubles.

"There's only one way to find out," Ezra replied as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. "Come on."

"Wait." Something had caught Terry's attention. Someone was calling his name. He whirled around to find his sister walking through the gravestones and ghosts looking for him. The sound of her voice carried over the din of singing busts, the opera ghosts, and the general chatter of the ghosts. Terry was actually glad to she her. He called back to her excitedly.

"Paula, I'm over here!"

Her eyes lit up as she spotted her brother. She ran over to him dodging hazards in the mist.

"Terry, you're alright, you're-you're…" She reached him and saw his glowing form. "Dead."

"Yeah."

Something melted inside of Paula. Her little brother, the one she was responsible form, was dead, devoid of life, deceased, lifeless. A horrible feeling bubbled up inside her and threatened to spill out. She had failed. Tears welled up in her eyes and it was all she could do to stop them from flowing out. Terry noticed his sister's unrest and looked away, embarrassed. He did not feel comfortable being cried over. He put a consoling, yet shaky, hand on her shoulder. The hitchhikers stood back respectfully and gave the siblings a moment.

"Uh, I-it's okay, sis." He cringed. He never was good at consoling people. "I'm okay really. Whoops." His hand went through her shoulder. "I just have to get used to being a ghost."

"Terry," Paula sniffled. "What am I supposed to tell mom and dad?"

"I hadn't thought of that. What if, what if I told them?"

"You? How?"

"Well, I think that I can get away from here for about an hour. I'll go home and explain to mom and dad the first chance I get."

Paula wiped her eyes and nodded. "That would probably be best. Where's your…your body?"

"There's a hidden room in the foyer. It's in there."

After a moment of silence, Ezra stepped forward. "Now that we have that settled." He threw an arm around Paula's shoulders. "How would you like to go on a sni…"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Terry's head frantically shaking back and forth. "I tried that a few years ago. It didn't go well."

"Right. Well, it was great meeting you, but we've gotta go. C'mon guys, let's go find Dustin."

The hitchhikers ran off and Terry soon followed with a wave to Paula. She waved back with a sad smile on her face before turning back to the house. Ghosts that had heard her outburst moved out of her way and murmured welcome sentiments. Most told her that it would not be too bad and that she could always come to visit. They liked hearing things from the outside world; as they could not leave their current home, save for one day a year. Paula quietly thanked the spirits and went on her way. The residents stared at her for a moment then went back to their festivities. Prior to entering again, she heard Ezra asking another poor victim to join them on their quest to find a snipe.

"Hiya, Dust! Wanna go on a snipe hunt?"

"A what?" The British accented reply came from another ghost that looked to be a coachman. Once again, she smiled faintly and went back into the dark corridors of the manor with the sounds of the graveyard echoing behind her. The only thing left to do was to find Master Gracey and tell him Terry's fate, and then she would have to return home and explain things to her parents. The latter of the two was something she was not looking forward to at all. She was hopeful that her mother would take the news better than she had, but there was no guarantee of that. Sighing, she walked over to the wooden door that Gracey had indicated earlier and knocked lightly on the hard surface. When there was no answer, she opened the door cautiously and entered his study.

The room was a bit larger than she had expected. Bookshelves with dusty glass doors lined the wall opposite the door. The books were interspersed with white busts that seemed to follow her every move. To her left was what inevitably was Gracey's desk. The piece was made of dark wood and dusty papers covered the surface along with an old Tiffany lamp. A leather bound book titled Zaubers von dem Zwanzigste Jahrhundert sat on top of the papers. Behind the desk was a magnificent throne-like chair that matched a sofa on the opposite side of the room. A beautiful faded Persian rug stretched across the hardwood floor to the opposite side of the room where large picture windows let moonlight illuminate the room. A few dim floor lamps dotted the dark corners of the room, but their light did not help much. In front of the windows was a red velvet upholstered sofa with lion's heads carved into the dark wood legs. Gracey sat on the sofa deep in thought. His eyes were fixed on some distant point in space and his face rested on his hand with his index finger on his temple and his thumb underneath his chin. When Paula opened the door, his head shot up. He relaxed his posture and stood up courteously when he saw that it was Paula.

"Miss Andersen. Did you find your brother?"

"Yes. I'm afraid that he has taken up residence with you."

"Oh. I see. He's become number 999." He searched for some reassuring words. "You are welcome to join him, there's always room for one more."

Paula looked at him in confusion and surprise.

"When the time comes that is."

"Of course. I'll come by every once in awhile, that is if that's alright."

Gracey nodded and crossed the room to his desk. He let his hand rest on the leather bound book. Seeing that Master Gracey had nothing more to say, she turned to go.

"I'll just show myself out. Thanks for everything, Master Gracey."

She turned to the door and Gracey's head shot up. "You can't just leave, Miss Andersen."

As she whipped around to face him, he waved his hand sharply. The door slammed shut. The thudding and clicking sound of doors and windows locking resounded through the manor. The graveyard ghosts watched in mixed horror and amazement as every window was covered by their shutters and every door was slammed and locked by unseen hands. Now there was no way in or out of the manor, that is, if you were a mortal of course. The moon now shone through the broken slats of the shutters, creating a strange, shattered pattern on the floor. Paula stared at Gracey in shock and horror. A crazed look entered his eyes and his lips twisted into a malevolent smirk.

"You're number one thousand."

**Who saw that coming?! Anybody? Anybody? Okay, I'm done.**

* * *

**Outtake: **

**You have no idea how hard it was not to make a 'fork in the passageway' joke. So, here's one that plays like a movie blooper:**

They walked on in silence for a while, until they came to a fork in the passage.

"I don't believe it," Gracey exclaimed. "That's where that's been."

"What is it?"

Gracey held up the piece of pronged silverware to show Paula. It was tarnished in a few places, but the intricate pattern was still visible.

"It's part of a set that's been in my family for generations."

"What's it doing here?"

"I-I…" He breaks character and looks in the direction of the would-be camera. "Are you serious about this?"

Beside him, Paula is giggling up a storm, as is the crew.

"Alright, alright." The director (AKA me) steps out laughing along with everyone else. "Cut. We'll do another take. Nice improv, George."

* * *

So that chapter's finished. If any of you have a 'fork in the passageway joke, send 'em along and I'll post them with the next chapter. Thanks again to Aquarian! Please review! Cheers. 


	5. Chapter 5

Another week, another chapter. Thanks to WanderingChild2007 for the two reviews, they made me feel special. D Anyway, you know I don't own it, so let's get on with it. Enjoy!

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"N-number what?"

"One thousand." He said it very calmly as if they were discussing the weather instead of death. "We always have room for one more and today's your lucky day."

Paula started edging backwards to the door, hoping that there was someway, anyway, that she could escape. Ghosts were one thing, but a ghost trying to kill her was another thing entirely. The demented look in his eyes told Paula that there was probably no chance of her ever getting out of the house. Alive that is. She was right. The doorknob would not turn. Fear flooded her senses, she could not think, she could not move. Gracey was still smirking at her and a throaty chuckle emerged from his lips. What had he become? This was not the man that had greeted her in the foyer hours earlier. It was like he had pulled an Anakin Skywalker and went over to the dark side.

"I don't understand."

Gracey waved his hand dismissively. "There is no need to understand." Paula gulped audibly. "Now, I know that you like to play Hide and Seek, so let's start our own game, shall we? You can hide anywhere in the house, I'll count to a hundred, and then I'll come find you."

"What happens after you find me?"

"You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own. Ready?" He waved his hand and the study door unlocked. "1…2…3…"

The first three numbers were all Paula needed to start running. His menacing count echoed as she ran for her life. Gracey certainly had the upper hand. He had lived in the house for decades and had the power of materializing. Paula would not be surprised if he had some sort of ghost GPS so he could find her. She would just have to go to a place he would never look. A place without ghosts, if that was even possible to find. While running up a carpeted staircase, an idea hit her. The attic, or at least that's what Gracey said it was. Now if only she could find it. She continued running. If she could keep running, then she would be all right; at least, she hoped so. Finally, after running around in circles, she came back to the intersection in the passageways. She ran up the creaky wooden stairs, and hoped that the room was not something out of Bluebeard. She quickly turned the latch as Gracey's voice echoed out through the corridors.

"I'm up to sixty-five now, Miss Andersen. I hope you've found a good hiding place. 66…67…68…"

Paula had to push on the door to get it to open. Obviously, as Gracey and the wear indicated, the door had not been opened in a while. However, the door was not locked. It gave way once Paula applied her shoulder as leverage. These hinges were also in serious need of WD40. As the door opened, a great cloud of dust rose, which made Paula sneeze. Besides the blanket of dust, interesting items filled the room. While she examined the room, she moved into the centre, ducking low hanging wooden beams. The overpowering scent of flowers filled Paula's nostrils and a second later, a vase with a blue and white design came whizzing through the air straight at Paula's head. She yelped and ducked causing the vase to crash against the door. As she hit the dusty ground, a ghoul with a skull-like face popped up from behind a trunk. Paula threw herself backwards, away from the phantom, who snickered and sunk back down to his hiding place. The sound of a heartbeat grew louder and louder as a wispy spirit with a red glowing heart and another vase in her raised hand.

"You finally come up here after all these years…" The voice was full of anger and distinctly female.

"Wait!" Another voice, male this time spoke up. "It's not Gracey!"

The ghost lowered her weapon slightly and timidly whispered, "It's not?"

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

"I'm staring right at her."

Paula cautiously looked over to her right, where the male voice was coming from. There was no other spirit there; just a hatbox that's top had been knocked off when she had fallen backwards. Unknowing what lay inside the box, Paula peeked over the edge of the box. Inside was a disembodied skeletal head. Perched on his head was a tall top hat with messy wisps of hair sticking out from under it. The head smiled at her revealing several gold teeth.

"Hi there!"

Paula shrieked again and pulled herself away from the box. The woman ghost had stepped into the light so that Paula could see her. Like every other ghost in the manor, the woman had a blue glow that surrounded her body. Her long platinum blonde hair flowed to the middle of her back and over her hair was a sheer white tiered veil that flowed to the floor. She wore a beautiful wedding gown. It had a high neck and leg o' mutton sleeves. A gold cameo necklace hung around her neck from a violet ribbon. The long skirt had an intricate lace overlay that flowed down to make a short train on the dusty attic floor. She had a pretty, young face and Paula figured that the woman could not be older that her own age of seventeen. Now that the woman saw who was in the attic, the beating of her heart softened, set down the vase, and offered her a hand up.

"Don't mind him. He was always the black sheep of the family."

"Thanks, Em. What a wonderful thing for you to say."

"Be quiet, Tony."

A headless body tottered over to the hatbox and took out the head. The body placed the head on his shoulders and twisted it in place. A sickening crack emitted from his neck. Once he got his head on straight, he gave them another toothy grin. He wore a handsome double-breasted grey suit underneath a large dark blue cloak with a large v-shaped collar that surrounded half of his head. Also underneath the cloak was a dark red scarf that trailed down to his knees. In his right hand, he held a knobby cane. He held out his other hand for Paula to shake. She took it as he introduced himself.

"I'm Tony Cavanaugh and this here is my sister Emily."

"Nice to meet you. I don't mean to be rude, but is there anyplace to hide up here?"

As the two siblings thought, Gracey's voice rang out through the room. "85…86…87…89…"

"George is playing his favourite game again, is he?" Tony's voice grew darker as he looked around to help the nervous mortal. Emily pointed to an open trunk next to her.

"What about this?"

"Em, remember what happened the last time someone hid in a trunk?"

"Oh, yeah." Her eyes lit on a large portrait of a redheaded pirate with a cherub, who had wings and an anchor tattoo, pouring wine into her goblet while three seagulls looked on. A flag with a skull and crossbones gave way to the sea and a three-masted ship on the horizon. The redhead held a sword loosely in her hands and a pistol was tucked into a brown belt at her waist. Pink striped socks came up to her knees and a tattoo of a heart with an arrow through it graced her right thigh. The rest of her outfit was pink, even the hat that sat on her head was a dark maroon colour with a large light pink feather emerging from it. Her right elbow rested on a red upholstered chair and sea coloured fabric spilled from the set. A bowl overflowing with fruit sat in front of the chair. There was an opulent gold frame surrounding the picture.

"99…100…ready or not, Miss Andersen, here I come."

The sounds of amplified footsteps echoed through the mansion. Paula assumed that he was just doing it for dramatic effect. Even though she knew what he was doing, the sounds still put her on edge. Emily lifted the picture so that Paula could crawl behind it. Gently, Emily put the picture back to its original position and draped a heavy old green curtain over the frame so that it completely covered Paula's curled up form. In the shadows, Paula hugged her legs to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. She silently repeated the mantra that she had said while playing this game in her childhood. _Please, don't find me. __**Please**__, don't find me. _The sound of footsteps grew louder until they were in the room. Emily's heartbeat got stronger and more irate. George was in the attic. Paula was glad that Emily's heartbeat was so loud. If it were not, then her heart would be deafening.

_Crash. _

Another vase had met its maker, or at least Master Gracey's form. He looked down at his midsection, where the vase had gone through. The smoky blue mist was rearranging back into his tuxedo jacket. He cleared his throat and chose his words carefully before speaking.

"It's nice to see you again, Emily. I see that your aim has improved."

"Oh George," she began with a sweet tone, and then it turned angry. "It's only been sixty-seven years."

"That long?" He looked around the attic searching for Paula. Also, he began to look nervous. Emily was famous for her Scarlett O'Hara like temper that could rival a redhead's. Tony stepped out of the shadows and addressed the master of the manor.

"Looking for something, George? You haven't been up here since an interesting game of hide and seek."

Gracey stared coolly at the hatbox ghost. "Don't loose your head, Tony…"

"Too late. That was brilliant; did you come up with that all by yourself?"

"A game of hide and seek is exactly what I'm here for." He ignored Tony's statement. "Have either of you seen a teenage girl running around?"

"The only things I've seen after all these years are these ghastly popup ghosts. You're the first person to come up here in ages, and if you leave now then I may forget that you came up here at all."

Gracey looked around once more before turning to leave. Satisfied that Paula had not come in here, he left without another word to Emily or Tony. Paula breathed a sigh of relief and exited her hiding place. The ghostly bride put her fingers to her lips. There was a chance that the Master was still waiting outside the attic door to see if his bride had been lying. Emily looked around for a secondary escape route. The dilapidated shutters had covered the broken window behind her and the door could be guarded by Gracey. Tony gestured for Paula to follow him while pointing to the floor. He was pointing at a square door in the floor that had an old brass handle attached. Paula tugged at the door until it came up with a quiet creak. She rolled her eyes; that was getting annoying. Behind the door was nothing but blackness.

"What is it?"

"Well, obviously it's a trapdoor. I don't know how many people have used it or know about it, but I figure that it was put here just for Em, 'cause the builders figured that she would get cold feet. Ow!"

Emily smacked him on the arm, hard. "I did not get cold feet. I was just nervous."

"You were a wreck."

"Tony…"

Paula broke in. "So you don't know where it goes?"

"No, I didn't say that. It leads to a hallway off the main foyer."

"Great." Paula lowered herself into the blackness. Her legs dangled in the air, so she figured that she had to let go and drop the rest of the way. With her eyes squinted shut, she counted silently to three, no more, no less, and let go of the hole's sides. She dropped several feet, and then hit something that gave a metallic ring in the darkness when she landed. It was a smooth and slanted surface. There was only time to open her eyes and see that there was nothing but darkness around before she began to slide forward. What she could not see she felt as the slide twisted and turned. The cool metal made her shiver and she hoped that the ride would be over soon. Abruptly, the slide ended and Paula was thrown through the air only to land on a musty mattress. She sneezed as she stood up and began to look for an exit.

There was a sliver of light a few paces to her left. She headed to the light and pushed on the wall. It soon gave way and sent Paula tumbling into the first hallway she had encountered, except this time, all the ghosts were silent. They must have learned about the game she and the master were playing. The doors were all shut. This meant that Paula had a guessing game ahead of her. She picked a door that she thought that she had not gone through before, and it turned out she was right.

The door opened to a library. Scads of books lined every bit of the wall, except a few alcoves where white busts sat. Even thought the walls were covered in books, more books sat on any uncovered surface another door was on the opposite end of the room. She began to head over to it when something on a table caught her eye. It was a book with a blue cover and gold foil lettering that said _The Most Dangerous Game_.

"Subtlety, thy name is Gracey."

"Oh, you saw that?"

Gracey materialized in the doorway that she had just come through. There was no getting out that way, unless she ran through him, which could be possible if he did not solidify himself. Paula did not take that chance. She bolted to the other door, threw it open, and ran out to the hall. Another door was open a few doors down. It was the door to the foyer. Gracey had disappeared again, but Paula just concentrated on running.

The foyer was unchanged except for Gracey's portrait over the fireplace. It had changed from the handsome looking young man to a skeleton in the remains of a tuxedo. The eyes had also changed from blue to two white, glowing orbs with small black dots as pupils. Light grey wisps of hair hung limply from the sides of his head. Everything, from the separate vertebrae of the neck to each bone of his fingers, could be seen. The only skin visible was a patch above his left eye. Paula shivered and tried the front door. The rattle of the knob was an indication that it was still locked and there was no way to open it. A slam behind her made her jump around to see the door to the hallway was now shut, leaving no escape route for her. Paula remembered Terry saying something about a hidden room in the foyer. She began frantically pressing on sections of the wall to find the entrance. At a section to the right of the fireplace, she knocked twice to see if the area behind it was hollow. It was. She pushed with all of her weight, hoping that this was the secret door. With another push, the door popped in about an inch, then no more. Paula let out a victorious yell and tried to figure out how to finish opening the door.

It was only when she pushed to the right, that the door slid open. She jumped inside the small room and shut the door behind her, not noticing that the portrait's eyes followed her every move.

Paula let out a sigh of relief after closing the door. She was safe, or so she thought. The first thing she noticed was there were no windows and no doors. That put a definite problem in her plans. The second thing she noticed was the motionless body of her brother. His brown eyes were still wide with shock and there was not a mark on his body. The signs suggested that he died of pure fright. The only colour on his now pale skin was a dark coloured trail of dried blood that started at the corner of his open mouth and ran to his chin. Paula gagged at the sight. It was the first time she had seen a dead body, and it just had to be her brother. She reached down and closed his vacant eyes, which seemed to ease her reaction, and looked around the room.

The room was octagonal with striped wallpaper. Leering gargoyles each held two flickering candles in their claws. Four paintings graced the walls of the room. Two were of males and the other two were of the fairer sex. One depicted a smug looking man with his arms crossed. He wore a white shirt with a high collar, a dark grey suit, and a light blue. A dark brown derby was perched on his head. The other portrait of the man was of a bald, distinguished looking man with an impressive beard. A reddish-coloured sash that matched the curtains behind him sat over his tuxedo shirt and gold waistcoat. His right hand held the opening of his jacket and his other hand held some sort of document. The picture directly across from the entrance was of an older plump woman with her hair up and pearl studs in her ears. She wore a high-collared dress, which was adorned with lace at the collar and a lace edged, maroon shawl was carefully placed on her shoulders. In her dainty hands, there was a pink rose. Leaves framed her figure and confirmed the outdoor location. The final picture was to the left of the older woman and portrayed a lovely young woman who also was outside. Gloved hands held a peach, lace edged parasol, which complemented both her complexion and her dress. Her hair was worn in a fancy bun and brown ringlets hung at the sides of her head. Her dress was made in shades of pink like the redhead's outfit in the attic. She wore a maroon caplet that was edged similarly as her parasol and matched her princess cut bodice. The sleeves of the dress were like light pink puffballs with wide ribbons attached. The skirt was a pale, pale pink with green sunburst-like flowers dotting the fabric.

Gracey's voice tore her from her examinations of the room. The stately master walked through one of the eight walls that surrounded Paula. He was not the corpse that adorned the wall above the fireplace, at least not that Paula could see, and he still wore his crazed expression and smirk. Paula cowered against the wall where the young woman's picture hung as Gracey advanced toward her menacingly. When Paula hit the wall, she felt the partition give way slightly as the entrance had before. She did not notice this, as her attention was more focused on Gracey.

"Miss Andersen, it seems that your flight has come to an end, I'm afraid. Now you will share in the same fate that your brother met. It will be a frightfully good ride." His laugh echoed in the room as he disappeared to parts unknown. However, his voice could be heard through the small room as the candles flames flickered even more fanatically.

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as if you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching, or is it your imagination?"

Paula looked around, amazed. The room and the portraits were actually stretching. The picture above her elongated to show that the woman was a tightrope walker that was about to fall victim to an alligator's jaws. The old widow was actually sitting on a tombstone with the words "Rest in Peace, Dear beloved George" inscribed above a bust of a man with a hatchet buried in his marble skull. Across from her, the smug looking man was sitting on the shoulders of two men who both looked increasingly alarmed. The bottommost man was waist-deep in quicksand, or so the sign said. The last portrait of the dignified man stretched to show that he was wearing red and white striped boxer shorts and standing on a keg of dynamite whose fuse was lit. Paula wondered briefly (No pun intended, folks. I promise.) why the man was standing on said keg with his boxers on. Not privy to Paula's musings, Gracey went on with his spiel.

"And consider this dismaying observation. This chamber has no windows and no doors." Paula had realised this when she first entered the room, so it came as no great surprise. "Which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!" The unseen Gracey laughed a chilling, mocking cackle. "Of course, there's always…my way."

The lights dimmed and Paula looked up. In a hidden cupola above the chamber, lightning flashes where seen through angled, broken windows, whose tattered curtains fluttered and snapped in the storm's monstrous gusts. In the centre was a wooden beam from which a fraying rope hung. At the end of the rope, a noose was tied and fitted around a skeleton's neck. From his tattered clothes and decaying bones, Paula assumed that he had been hanging there for decades. The limp skull turned its leering face to see Paula. A glow, not unlike that of the portrait outside, filled the empty sockets. Paula's scream could probably be heard through out the mansion and its grounds. It was a scream that would have put Fay Wray to shame. The shock of seeing the corpse pushed her further against the wall, this time hitting a small button like panel hidden by the dark woodcarvings. As the room went to pitch black, the panel opened suddenly behind Paula causing her to fall backwards onto a carpeted floor, which muffled her fall. The hidden door slid right back into place, leaving Paula alone in pitch darkness. The candles flickered back to life in the octagonal and Gracey went in for the killing blow, quite literally. Only, he was rather puzzled to find his victim had completely disappeared.

-X-

Paula was equally puzzled and wondered where she was. She seemed to be in a narrow hallway with only one room connecting to it. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the outline of a door a few paces ahead of her and to the right. A greenish glow came from behind the door. Unexpectedly, the door opened, illuminating the hall in green light and a sweet female voice addressed Paula.

"Come in. We have yet to meet."

Paula walked into the room that looked more like a gypsy tent than a room. The door slammed behind her, making her jump. A purple curtain with metallic threads woven in covered the rough wooden door, completely hiding it from human eyes.

"Come in, Miss Andersen, and have a seat."

Paula sat at a chair across from the glowing crystal ball.

"Where are you? I don't se…"

It was then that she noticed what, or who, was in the crystal ball. A beautiful woman's head stared back at the teenager with an amused look on her face. The green smoke inside the crystal distorted the natural colour of her features like the blue aura of the ghosts did. From what she could tell, the woman had black curly hair, and tanned skin. Arched eyebrows made her look very chic and thick lashes made her eyes even more mysterious. Her dark lips shone in the self-illuminated crystal and dark shadow adorned her eyelids. Paula gaped at the head.

"What...who are you? How do you know my name?"

"My dear, I am Madame Leota."

* * *

**Outtake #2. Yeah, this is totally random, but it was crying out to be shared with the world, so here it goes. Just FYI the original line was 'I'm afraid that your flight is finally finished.' Obviously, I changed it after realising the crazy alliteration. **

"I'm afraid that your flight is finally fin…" George fumbled with the last bit of the line. "Sorry, sorry, can we have another go?"

The clapboard comes down and the scene begins again.

Paula cowered against one of the octagonal walls as Gracey advanced toward her menacingly.

"Miss Andersen, I'm afraid that your flight is finagling…" He breaks character. "Did you realise the alliteration when you wrote this? You've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry." PK is frantically scribbling something on a script while the crew snickers. (I really cannot get out of the alliteration.) "Here, try this."

George reads it through a few times and then hands her the paper back. "Okay."

"Okay? Good." She turns to the camera and rolls her eyes jokingly. "Are we set? Right, action!"

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What do you think? Tell me in a review. It only takes a few minutes. A special prize to anyone who guesses (correctly) the origin of the painting in the attic! See you next week! 


	6. Chapter 6

Hey, y'all! It's great to be back after vacation and being sick. (Fun) For those who guessed about the painting, it was indeed the painting of the redhead from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, which, in fact, got half of my jeans soaked for an entire day and...not important, sorry. Now, for the next chapter in the exciting saga. Again, I own nothing, thanks for reminding me. I'm just going to go have a good cry now. Enjoy and review! Oh! I forgot! I do own Sydney. Yay. (hugs the spectre)

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"Madame Leota? As in the evil Madame Leota?" 

Leota rolled her eyes and looked purely annoyed. She dropped the sweet tone of the mystical gypsy medium and her voice took on a very slight Cajun accent.

"Is that what the "innocent" master of the manor told you? Ha! Me, evil. That's a laugh."

"So, you're not…"

"Of course not! Maybe a little aggressive when called for, but definitely not evil."

"Can you tell me what's going on here then? George said something about demonic spirits and the house being a portal…is that true?"

"A portal? More like a vortex. Look at all the ghosts around. Even if they weren't bound to stay here, they would. It started a few months after I came here. Gracey was looking for his father and his late wife, that much is true. It's what he told you after that which diverges from the truth. A dark spirit did enter the house, but I did not summon it. He did.

"I was unable to contact the spirits he sought because they had passed on. I tried to tell him, but he accused me of not trying hard enough. To prove his point that anyone could do this, he grabbed the nearest spell book, Zaubers von dem Zwanzigste Jahrhundert, and read a spell at random. The result was me being trapped in this ball. Then, encouraged by his success, he read another spell. This spell was more of a curse and he unleashed a demon. It unlocked something deep inside of Gracey, jealousy, hatred, hostility. I was able to subdue the beast, but some of it still resides inside of him. Once more, he looked for a spell that may solve his problem. With the limited German that he knew, he translated one of the titles. He thought it said 'To find lost souls in the dwelling'. The actually translation was 'To curse the souls in the dwelling'. The curse set upon the house and I explained the meaning to Gracey. None of the souls would rest until one thousand souls reside here.

"I finally told Gracey the reason that I could not reach his father and late wife. When he heard, the demon inside of him took over and he killed his new bride, her brother, and everyone else on the premises. After his murderous streak was over, the demon went dormant and Gracey went back to normal. He saw what he had done and, he felt so guilty that, he hung himself in the hidden portrait gallery. The demon has poisoned his mind to believe that everything was my fault."

"So he knows about this place, the hidden panel."

"No, he doesn't. I found that hallway when I first came here. He has no idea that it exists."

Paula relaxed a bit. "So, the demon is always present?"

"It's more of a Jekyll/Hyde relationship, except he has no idea when Hyde will show himself."

"And I would be the last one? If I die, then everyone else is free."

"Yes, that is one way. The other is to take out the demon. There is a spell in that same book that will release the demon just as it introduced it. Get the book and bring it here. A mortal must read the text, so you'll have to do it."

There was a thud in the hallway, like a footstep. Paula jumped, but Leota's face remained unchanged. Now she spoke in an urgent whisper.

"Get behind the curtains."

"The curtains?"

"Behind the chair. There's a trunk. Get in it." When Paula still looked at her confused, she added, "Now!"

Paula rushed to comply. Behind the chair and the curtains, was a dark wood chest with carvings of an Indian origin. She slipped inside and Leota slid on the latch. The interior was dark, obviously, and smelled like spices. Paula may have been in the dark, but she could hear everything.

A door opened and Leota's sweet voice rang out.

"Ah, Master Gracey. What can I do for you tonight?"

"I need you to find me someone."

"Am I speaking to the Jekyll or the Hyde?"

"Does it really matter? I have a job for you."

"Ah, Mr. Hyde. What can I do for you?"

"Find the girl."

"Wouldn't that be cheating? You should find her yourself."

"She isn't here is she?"

"Why would she be here?" Leota's tone grew icy. "You are the only one in the mansion who knows I am here. Why don't you go find her brother? Perhaps he knows where she is."

There was a silence and then the sound of the door opening and closing again. Leota chuckled quietly and addressed Paula.

"You may come out now."

Paula pushed on the lid, but it would not open.

"Leota?" Her voice was panicked. "I think you forgot something."

"What? Oh, sorry."

The latch slid open and Paula was able to push open the lid. She stayed sitting in the chest and pulled back the brocaded curtains to find Leota simply looking at her with a small smile on her face.

"Is the book here?"

Leota shook her head sending the green clouds around her into wisps that covered her face. A moment after the upset, they returned to their proper position, framing her face.

"It is in the Master's study."

Paula remembered the large leather bound book that sat on Gracey's desk. How was she to get it? She voiced her concern to the medium.

"I've sent your hunter to seek out your brother. It is unlikely that he will be found, since he is deep in the woods with three others." Paula smiled faintly. "Just get into the study..."

"How do I do that?" Leota looked a little miffed at being interrupted, but she let it pass.

"There are more than two ways into this room. One other passage goes from here to the study."

"Does he know about that one?"

"Yes." She nodded her head to the opposite side of the room. Yet another curtain draped over the wall. This one was a dark faded blue with thick rust stripes. Gold threads glistened in the light of brass lanterns that hung from the ceiling. A gold coloured tassel hung to one side.

"Pull the tassel," Leota instructed. Paula did as she was told and the drape rose to reveal a dark entrance. She looked back for reassurance. Leota nodded forward, nudging her forward. "When you get to the end of the passage, just push on the centre of the door."

Paula nodded and slid into the darkness. The curtain fell back behind her and Leota closed her eyes to see what went on in the black corridor.

-X-

The only light came from generously spaced torches held by sculpted human hands. In the high recesses of the bricks were large glistening webs that held gigantic neon coloured spiders. Paula carefully eyed the arachnids hoping that they would not drop onto her. Cool wind blew through the corridor riffling the torch flames. She quickened her pace and looked for the end of the brick passage. A blue glow appeared behind her. Her breath caught and her heart stopped. Slowly, she turned around to face the spectre. The semi-transparent man behind her was someone that she did not expect to see again.

"Sydney?"

"In the flesh…well, sort of." His voice was low, but humourous. Paula wondered if he knew the gravity of her situation. He must have caught her expression because he grew more somber and spoke once more. "The news of the game is spreading through the mansion and I wanted to know if there was anything that I could do for you."

"Do you know where Gracey is? And how did you find me?"

Sydney thought for a moment before shaking his head ruefully. "No one's seen him inside the manor, but that doesn't mean anything. He comes and goes wherever and whenever he wants. As to the second, I've just been looking everywhere, and so has everyone else."

"But if I die, then won't they be free to go on their merry way?"

"We've been here since before you or your parents were born. We like it here. Where else would we go? Plus, we're not for the killing of innocents."

"Then I think you can help me." She gestured invitingly to the continuing hallway. Sydney followed closely behind her, like a shadow, as they continued down the passage. Paula may have seemed calm on the outside, but on the inside, she was a nervous wreck. Every small noise, from air blowing through the bricks to the skittering noise of spiders' legs, made her heart and stomach leap. For all she knew, Gracey could be following them right now or waiting for her at the end of the hall or in the study. The part of her mind that was not scared was working in overdrive. Regret and plans flooded her mind in an attempt to repress the fear. It wasn't really working. They came to the end of the brick tunnel. The wall looked like it was part of the rest of the hall, but Paula knew better. She laid her palms on the centre of the wall and began to push gently. Sydney stood behind her looking mildly interested. A second after she started pushing, Paula stopped and looked back at Sydney.

"Would you mind going in first. Just see if Gracey is there."

"Sure, no problem." He began to dissolve into nothingness.

"Wait!" Sydney reappeared. "Can you also see if there's an old leather bound book on the desk?"

"Yeah." He waited a moment. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

He began to disappear again.

"Wait!" Again, he rematerialized. "Sorry, I forgot one thing. Be careful."

He grinned. "No problem."

He faded into nothingness again, and Paula waited anxiously for his report. Seconds that felt like ages ticked by. Her nervous habits began to kick in. She started bouncing on the balls of her feet and chanting "Hurry up" under her breath. What could be taking him so long? Finally, a blue mist appeared in front of her and began to take Sydney's shape.

"Well?"

"All clear."

Paula breathed a sigh of relief. "And the book."

"On the table."

"Good. Thanks, Sydney." She resumed pushing on the centre of the false wall. The wall swung open and light flooded into the corridor. Cautiously, Paula stepped into the room that was just as she had remembered, except Gracey was no longer inside it. The prize that she sought was on the desk, just as Sydney had said. Sydney stayed in the passage, acting as a lookout as Paula took the book with some trepidation as what would happen next. She assumed that the book was movable and that there were no Indiana Jones-like traps around. The book was heavier than Paula had anticipated, but it fit perfectly into her arms. She stole back to the hidden door where Sydney was anxiously.

"Safe!" That thought was full of relief, but quickly burst. For when she set foot over the threshold to the secret passage, the menacing voice of the master sounded behind her.

"So you did go to see Leota. Mr. Blaine, it's interesting to see you here." Sydney cringed under the demonized master's piercing gaze. "I believe you have something of mine, Miss Andersen, and I would like it back."

Paula looked down at the book and back at Gracey. His hand was extended palm up and his expression was icy. She looked back at Sydney, who still stood in front of her. He looked to her for instructions and maybe some support.

"Go tell Leota that we may have a problem. I'll come as soon as I can," Paula instructed in a low voice. At the instructions, Sydney's eyes widened. It was apparent that he had heard stories about the medium. She nodded her head forward in a 'go it'll be fine' gesture and, with that, he disappeared.

"He chose wisely. Now, Miss Andersen, I believe we have some unfinished business."

He took a step forward and Paula realised that there were no weapons that could protect her against the supernatural. She did the only thing that she could. She ran.

"You're only prolonging the inevitable, Miss Andersen."

She did not reply, only kept running. In classic horror movie fashion, she stumbled to the ground. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and ran until she was only a few feet from the psychic's room. There Gracey stood casually examining his fingernails. Paula's eyes narrowed and she clutched the book tightly to her chest. If ghosts could walk through solid objects, why couldn't she go through them? After taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ran at full speed to Leota's door. A chill enveloped her body and she opened her eyes. Only she opened them too late. She tripped over the doorsill and tumbled onto a stack of pillows. The book flew from her hands and landed open at the base of the table.

"Nice landing."

"Thanks," she mumbled as she got to her feet and picked up the spell book. "Which one is it?"

Leota's eyes quickly scanned over the text on the pages in front of her. Somehow, she flipped the aged pages until she came to the back of the book. Here the illustrations and borders grew darker and more gruesome. Paula thought that she saw a picture of a hand holding a fiery, bloody heart on one of the pages. Finally, Leota stopped and nodded her head to one of the pages.

"That one."

"Which one?"

"Third from the bottom on the right side. Now all we need is the possessed…" George appeared in the doorway. "Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear. You can go ahead now."

Paula had been scanning the text with trepidation. "Um, Leota?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't speak German. How am I supposed to read this?"

"Just say it like it looks."

"What are you doing?"

George's eyes blazed with an unnatural glow, even for a member of the supernatural. Leota's eyes were narrowed at him waiting for the spell to take its course. Paula's lips were working on speaking the spell. The demonized master stepped forward, bent on saving his existence. Paula gulped, licked her lips, and began to read the spell in a quiet voice.

"Dämon, mit keiner Name." The words felt strange on her tongue and her voice became quieter with each word. Leota interrupted her to help her rid the demon.

"Speak up!"

Paula began again, this time with a stronger and louder voice.

"Dämon, mit keiner Name,

Geh züruck zu wo du hast gekommen.

Lasse die Seele von diesem Mann.

Geh so weit weg wie du kannst!"

Paula looked up to see the effect of her words, and she was not disappointed. Gracey let out an inhuman yell that dragged on and echoed through the mansion. The glow in his eyes grew so it looked as if all the fires of Hell were reflected there. His body began to shake violently like he was having a seizure. His hands ripped at his skin and clothing, trying to break free. His mouth opened once more and a fiery spirit slipped out. The light went from Gracey's eyes and he collapsed on the floor clothed only in a tattered white shirt and torn black pants. Paula looked at his immobile form and wondered whether a spirit could die a second time, but her attention was quickly diverted to the demon that came out of him.

"You think that you can get rid of me that easy?" The demon's voice reminded Paula of something from the end of Ghostbusters. "Let me show you what I can do!"

The evil spirit expanded, nearly filling the entire room. The fire in its eyes was mirrored in its entire body. It looked like a serpentine dragon. Five long sharp claws accentuated the beast's hands. A tongue that looked like a whip of fire slid from his mouth and teeth that were similar to the claws made its smile very creepy indeed. Paula's eyes widened, thinking that it seemed that whether Gracey had killed her or not, she would become number one thousand. Even Leota appeared surprised, perhaps more curious than surprised, but Paula believed that this wasn't what she expected to happen. The mortal backed up until the back of her legs hit a stool and she toppled to the ground.

"Leota, why didn't it work?"

Leota did not answer, but instead, called the book to her when it flew from Paula's grasp. It floated in front of her and her green eyes skimmed over the instructions. The demon let out a hideous scream and rose up to the ceiling.

"Leota?!"

"Just give me a minute."

"I may not have a minute!" Paula's words ended in a shriek as the beast descended to her. Its claws slashed across her face, making blood flow down her skin like sweat. There was no way to defeat him without the spell. Why had it not worked? Another swipe of the claws created marks on her shoulder and ripped her shirt enough to show the cross she wore around her neck. Upon gazing at the holy symbol, the demon squealed and reared up. Paula realised her chance and got up to try to escape, but she had no luck. Now that the cross was out of sight, the demon came back and dug its claws across the small of her back. She closed her eyes to stop the tears, the pain was blinding and she let out a cry that turned into the word 'Leota'.

"Sorry, sorry. It says that the spell must be read a second time."

"I'm coming; I'm just a little busy right now."

Another claw ripped across her skin. She knew somehow the demon was toying with her, making her suffer. Those claws could have easily killed her in a heartbeat. Hoping that her diversion would work, Paula kicked a small bench at her adversary. The bench hit the demon and Paula ran to finish the spell. Again, she read the words and the demon stopped in mid-strike. A whirlwind entered the room and the demon became a tornado of flame. The room shook until the twister diminished, taking the demon with it. Paula breathing was heavy as the beast disappeared. When it was gone, her legs shook and crumpled beneath her like a newborn colt's. The book still lay open in her hands. She shut it carefully and laid it on Leota's table.

"I guess anyone really can do it. Nicely done."

Paula smiled, closed her eyes and leaned back against the table. Her breathing had slowed considerably and every once in a while a small laugh escaped her lips. The blood from her wounds had dripped down to her lips and the coppery taste reawakened her senses and brought her back to reality. The pain was considerable and Paula found that, considering the amount of blood she was loosing, it was amazing that she was still conscious. She felt the scratches on her back and brought back her hand to establish the severity of that wound. Only a bit of red showed on her pale hand, something that she was grateful for. The wounds that were the worst seemed to be the scratches on her forehead and those on her shoulder. Other minor scratches on her face and arms bled little if not at all.

After surveying her own injuries, she looked over to where the master of the manor lay, still unmoving. She made her way over to him, while Leota looked on. Paula still wondered if he was gone for good. However, if that were so, wouldn't his form have disappeared? Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder and hoped it would be somewhat solid. It was. She gingerly turned him over so he rested on his back and looked for movement. What movement she did not know, for she was uncertain whether ghosts still appeared to breathe or not. Again, she placed her hand on his shoulder and shook his form gently.

"Master Gracey? Master Gracey?"

He seemed to stir at the sound of his name, but Paula could not be sure. So, she called him again, this time going for shock.

"George?"

At the sound of his first name, his eyes flickered open to see who was calling him. This time they were bright blue instead of the fiery red they were moments earlier. Paula sighed in relief and Leota looked as if she shared the sentiment. Gracey, however, was quite confused. His voice lost some of its dramatic nature as he began to speak and instead took on a shaky quality.

"M-miss Andersen?" He coughed and his voice regained its normal tone. "What has happened?" He looked down at his tattered clothing and then up at Paula with all her wounds. Now, he was beyond confused.

"Short version: You've been possessed by a demon for, oh, about sixty, sixty-five years. You, or I should say the demon, killed most everyone in the house, including my brother, and also tried to kill me so that everyone could go to the happy hunting grounds. If you want the long version, you'll have to ask Leota because, frankly, I don't think I'd tell it very well."

She said this almost without pausing for breath and Gracey looked at her astounded.

"So…" He trailed off, gazing at the gashes on her face.

"You didn't do that. The demon did."

It was at this point that the room had begun to spin in Paula's eyes and multicoloured spots danced there too. She began to fall forward, but Gracey caught her just before she hit the ground. Some of the blood dripped from her face and shoulder to the carpets covering the floor.

"Sorry about the mess, Leota," she mumbled with her eyes half closed. After gently laying her down, Gracey shredded one of the drapes near him to help staunch the blood from her shoulder. With another scrap of fabric, he applied pressure to her forehead. A small glass of water floated over to them, courtesy of Leota. Gracey held the cup to her lips.

"Drink this," he commanded.

She complied with the order and finished the clear liquid, with some unseen surprise. There was a note of authority in his voice, a note that advised her not to disobey. In the short time of her stay at the manor, the master had not acted like this. Mischievous and amused, yes. Concerned and persistent, no so much. Even through the events of the night, Paula felt as she would in her parents' care—safe.

"Maybe, maybe you'll get your thousand, Gracey."

"I hope not, Miss Andersen. I hope not."


	7. Chapter 7

Hey everyone! Here's a little Halloween treat for all of you. Sorry it's so late, but anyway. Disclaimer: You know the drill. The mouse owns all.

And now, the exciting conclusion to Hide and Seek! Enjoy!

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Gracey, who had been around death all his life, wondered why he felt so strongly about saving this human. True, he had killed many in his afterlife, but that was the demon working through him. Perhaps he thought he needed to prove that he had no demons and was capable of saving life instead of taking it. Or maybe it was something more. There was something in her features that was familiar; something that reminded him of Lily. He figured that he was getting a second chance at saving her, when he had failed the first time.

At the present, Paula lay propped up against some of Leota's many pillows. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was slow and steady and her chest rose and fell with an easy rhythm. Gracey took the rag from the curtains away from her forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a small trickle still flowed from the corner of one of the cuts. The makeshift bandage on her shoulder held up well, but it would probably need to be changed soon, as the blood was beginning to seep through the fabric.

He sighed as he began to take the fabric away. He was a lawyer, not a doctor. Why was he doing this again? He looked at her face. Oh, right, because of Lily. After he tied the finishing knot, Paula stirred and her eyes fluttered open. Her voice was weak and soft.

"Hey. How long was I out?"

Gracey shrugged. "Maybe a half hour."

"Oh." With the simple syllable, Paula began to rise up. "I think I should be getting home." The world blurred and spun. She fell back to her position on the pillows with a small thump and a groan. "Maybe after the room stops spinning."

There was silence in the room, except for the lulling sound of Madame Leota's chanting. She had been ignoring them once she saw that Paula was all right. Paula felt an impulse deep inside of her to fall asleep. As it was probably two or three in the morning, she deemed it to be justified, but Paula would rather sleep in her own bed. Especially since it was probable that her parents would come into her room to wake her up. When they did not find neither her nor her brother in the house, both adults would most likely get together a posse and search everywhere.

Once the wooziness subsided, Paula sat up again, this time more slowly and more cautiously. This time the world stayed put and stayed in focus.

"Ready to go, Miss Andersen?"

Paula nodded and looked at Gracey. He still had not bothered change his ripped attire, if he could change it at all. Also, his hair was uncharacteristically messy and fell into his eyes. His black trousers were more or less intact; only the bottoms were slightly tattered. However, his shirt was a different matter. The usually crisp white shirt was ripped almost beyond recognition. The facts that it was on his body and that his arms were through two holes of the white fabric were the only distinguishing features of the garment. His black tuxedo jacket and his blue tie were missing entirely. In Paula's eyes he actually looked quite handsome, but she figured that the master would rather not be seen in such a state.

"Uh, Master Gracey…?"

Paula pointed subtly to his irregular apparel. This, of course, made the master look down at himself and a light flush grew on his face and neck. He snapped his fingers and winked out of sight. Paula was not that stunned, but she was still curious as to where he went. A second later Gracey reappeared fully dressed in his regular tuxedo with nary a thread out of place. The act was something Paula's brain did not wish to comprehend at the time, but later the thought did cross her mind on how he accomplished the feat.

Disappearing act aside, Gracey stood and held out his hand to Paula. She took it gratefully and he helped her to her feet. Leota's chanting had not ceased. With Gracey's arm around her waist supporting her, Paula made it out into the hallway and through the labyrinth of corridors to the foyer where she had first met the ghost host. The foyer was back to its original state with the portrait of a non-skeletal Master Gracey over the fireplace and the door to the stretching room closed.

Paula looked to where the door was, knowing that her brother's body was behind it. Carefully, she removed her arm from Gracey's neck and walked shakily over to the door. With a well-placed push, the door slid open and showed that the body was just as she had seen it last; slumped against the wall with the eyes closed and a line of dried blood trickling from the mouth. Paula lifted the body so that she could get her hands underneath his arms to drag him out of the room. For the second time that night, tears sprung to her eyes, making her vision blur.

It was as if reality hit her at that moment. Her brother was gone. He wouldn't be there to annoy her, or pull foolish pranks on her or anything. Why was she taking this so hard? Her brother was her constant tormentor and never let her be. But, at the same time, could make her laugh and want to hug him. No more. No longer could she touch him, be it for bad or good. He was the supernatural and she; she was left to be natural.

Gracey, who had figured out what her goal was, gently pulled her to one side and grabbed the body himself. He laid it down in front of the fireplace and shut the door to the hidden room. Paula slumped against the wall, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, somewhat ashamed at having Gracey see her like this. Usually she could hide her feelings, but when it came to her brother, who in life had constantly pestered her, they just poured out with no regard as to whom or what would see them. It annoyed her that Gracey could remain so calm, but she supposed that he had seen his share of death. Perhaps he could have some sort of insight on the matter.

"Why do I miss him so much?"

Gracey shrugged. "Why do we miss anyone close to us that dies? It's not like he's passed over, you know. My invitation still stands. You can visit us here at our moldering sanctum anytime you want."

"Thanks, Master Gracey."

"George."

"George." She extended her hand which he took and, instead of shaking it like she had expected, he bowed and kissed it. Blushing, she gave him a small, weak smile and a wave before walking out the door. Upon walking clumsily out of the door, she was blinded by a bright beam of light. She covered her face with her hands, to attempt to block out the light. The beam cut off and Paula lowered her hands. A male voice called out to her.

"Paula Andersen, is that you?"

She squinted in the darkness and saw the form of one of the few members of the local police squad.

"Pete, you've known me since birth, all right? Of course it's me."

The blonde haired officer apologized, but his manner was brisk and business-like. Not once had Paula known the man to drop his conduct. "Sorry. We saw your car here on several of our passes and wondered if you're all right."

Paula took a few wobbly steps down the stone stairs to the squad car, and, before she fell, she was caught by the shoulders by Pete's partner, Roxy. Paula winced as the darker woman's hand put pressure on her wound.

"Paula, are you okay?" Roxy looked unexpectedly concerned at her injuries, which differed from her usual tough exterior.

Paula was ready to drop from fatigue and the events from the night. The best she could do was quietly tell them the highlight of the night.

"Terry's dead. He's in the foyer."

The two officers looked at each other. Pete took his flashlight, put his free hand on his gun, and entered the mansion. Roxy began to console Paula as best she could and tried to get what happened out of her. All Paula could do was shrug and mumble 'I don't know'. Even if she told the truth, it was probable that they would not believe her. Pete came out of the house and called Roxy over. They moved a sizable distance from Paula, but she caught a few of the words they said. Pete confirmed that Terry was dead and told Roxy to call an ambulance for both siblings.

While Roxy radioed, Pete wrapped the tired teen in a blanket and offered her the backseat to sit in. Now the officer was less like himself and more attentive. He may not understand the loss himself, but he knew what the boy had meant to some of the citizens of the small town. Now as he helped the remaining Andersen child into the squad car, he wondered how he was going to tell the parents. Nothing like this had happened before and he hoped Mrs. Andersen would be all right. He put a comforting arm on Paula's unwounded shoulder and tried to help her down into the backseat, however Paula's attention was directed to something else.

Before she sat down, a light glow caught her attention. To the side of the mansion, behind a tombstone bearing his name stood Master Gracey. He noticed her looking at him and gave her a small, gallant bow, before dissolving into the darkness. Paula smiled, and then finally responded to Pete's voice. At last, she was able to collapse without the worries of crazed demons or warped versions of children's games. She should wait until the paramedics checked her out, but sleep began to overpower her and she slipped into a light state of slumber.

If this visit was so interesting, she could not wait until she came again.


End file.
